The Day It Rained
by tacopandacat
Summary: The son of a carpenter. The son of a tailor. The son of a chef. The son of a king. Friends until the end of time. This is their story. (Apologies for no image. This is my first fic here.)


It was raining when they came. Not the pouring, pounding rain that everyone associates with people coming to a castle for help. It was the kind that was soft and light. It was the kind of rain that went pitter-patter on the tin roofs of the village. My favorite kind.

Mother was away on business that day. I love my mother, but I'm glad she wasn't there. She would've ignored it had she heard the knock on the door. Father answered it without hesitation. He never lets the servants get the door.

Much to my sisters' dismay, I followed him, completely ignoring my unfinished food. I watched him throw open the doors.

It was a family. A mother held a boy's hand. He looked to be a little older than myself. A father held another in his arms. He looked my age, but he was deathly pale. I saw his chest move slightly, and let out a breath of relief. He was alive. They were all soaked to the bone, so it was clear that they had been out there for a while.

The father spoke. "Please, let us in. My son is sick, and no one will help him." His words were rushed and he sounded broken. He hurried on. "We won't stay for long, and we won't be any…"

My father cut him off. "Give me your son and follow me into the med bay."

I watched them hurry off, and I could've sworn I saw the boy's eyes open. They were a dark, warm brown. I turned to the mother and the older brother. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Ryan! Ry! CRY!"

"What?" My masked friend poked his head out of the door. Even if I couldn't see his face, I knew his eyebrows were raised.

"We…we have guests…" I panted, and rested my hands on my knees.

After I had sat them down at the table (Claire nearly fainted), I pumped my legs all the way to the west side of the castle.

"Guests?" I looked up at him. He practically buzzed with excitement. The only guests we ever get are my terrible aunt and uncle. Him and his mother both hate to cook for them as they are so picky.

I smiled. "And starving ones."

He clapped his hand over his mouth and squealed with delight. "How many?"

"Four."

"FOUR!" I slapped my hands over my ears and Cry looked down sheepishly. "Sorry, Jack. I'll get right to work." He ran into the kitchen and I heard him say, "Mama! Mama! We get to cook more!"

I grinned, and dashed off to find Felix.

"Hey, Felix!" I called in a singsong voice.

"What?"

"We have guests."

"So?"

"It's not my uncle."

"Oh…OH."

"It's a family. Their son is sick. Cry is cooking for them, but they are currently in soaking wet rags."

My blonde friend came skidding around the corner. His spectacles slid down his nose and as always, his tape measure hung around his neck. "WHAT?! THIS IS A CATASTROPHE! THEY MUST BE PUT IN THE FINEST OF CLOTHES! FOR THE GOOD OF THE KINGDOM!" He pointed into the air, and his blue eyes shone.

I laughed. "You want to see them or not?"

"Obviously! I need to take their sizes, I need to know what kind they want, how long they'll be staying…" He ranted on for a bit longer as we walked down the halls. We came to the dinner table. Claire, Summer, and Nova all looked disgusted with the mother and child sitting together and drinking what smelled to be a heavenly soup. Cry stood at the door, smiling.

"How do you like the soup?" I asked.

The boy smiled. "It's delicious. Better than anything I've had in weeks." Nova glared at him, and he blushed. "Sorry. Your highness."

I rolled my eyes and said, "I don't care what they tell you to do, I never want to be called 'your highness'. I find it...too dignifying."

"Sean, it's the proper…"

I cut off Summer. "I told you, _Jack_. _JACK_. How is it that hard to remember?" I turned to the two still eating the soup. "I apologize for my sisters' behavior."

"It is quite alright, Jack," said the mother softly. "My boys, Thomas and Mark, fight like this often."

"I'm Thomas," the boy said.

"And my name is Kon," the mother added. "Mark...my…" Her voice broke. "My son…"

'Mark,' I thought. 'His name is Mark.'

"He'll be alright, Kon. We have excellent healers, they'll fix him up," said Felix. He smiled. "Now how about we get you out of those clothes?"

He took both of their hands and led them upstairs.

"His name is Mark."

"Pardon?" said Summer.

I ignored her. "Cry, get two bowls of soup and give one to me." When that was done, I walked with the soup to the med bay.

Mark.

"Sir?" I said. "If you'd like, there's some soup waiting for you in the dining hall."

His father looked up. He looked worn down to the bone. I wasn't surprised. But to my amazement, he smiled at me and he said, "Thank you, Jack. Your father told me about you."

He appeared behind Mark's father and patted him on the shoulder. "You should eat, James."

"Thank you, Will. You've been good to us."

He left me with my father and a bowl of soup.

I sat where James sat and I placed the soup on the table next to Mark. He shifted a little in his sleep and whimpered.

"He's a fighter, that one," Father said. "James told me that he likes Shakespeare, just like you."

I grinned. "I never have anyone to talk to about him."

"Then it's a good thing they'll be sticking around. James is a carpenter and we need a new one."

I gasped and said, "But what about Mother? She won't like this at all!"

"I know," he said quietly. "But these people needed real help. It was the right thing to do." He suddenly took my hands in his own and he said to me something I shall never forget. "Son, promise me that you'll always do what's right."

"How…how will I know if it's right?"

"If people tell you it's wrong, but you know that it's right in your heart and soul, you must do it. You will know."

He left me with Mark and my thoughts. I glanced over at him. He shifted again in his sleep. I noted that father had left A Midsummer Night's Dream next to the bowl of soup. I smiled. That was my second favorite, after Hamlet. I picked it up and flipped to the first page. Father had said he liked Shakespeare.

"Act one, scene one. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, and Philostrate." I cleared my throat before continuing. "Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace. Four happy days bring in another moon. But oh, methinks how slow this old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, like to a stepdame or dowager long withering out a young man's revenue."

I am sure he heard me, so I go on. I read until the rain tapping on the windows can no longer be heard and the moon shines through the clouds. I close the curtains and I put down the book.

"Goodnight, Mark. I'll read you more tomorrow," I said. I shut the door to the med bay and I went to bed.


End file.
